


Unexpected

by h0ldthiscat



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h0ldthiscat/pseuds/h0ldthiscat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s not sprawled out on the couch when she arrives, and she forgets for a moment that he has a bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

He’s not sprawled out on the couch when she arrives, and she forgets for a moment that he has a bedroom. 

“Mulder?” she asks tentatively, shutting the door behind her with one heeled boot. She hopes her footfalls on the wood floors will announce her arrival. 

She hears a cough from the bedroom and leaves the brown paper bag on the kitchen table. She opens the door to his bedroom slowly, not really sure what she’ll find. The room is surprisingly tidy, but looks nothing like a place where a person sleeps. Boxes stack four high, blocking most of the light from the windows on the far side of the room. Faded, wrinkling towers of National Geographics flank a tall, elegant dresser topped with one or two unusual artifacts Indiana Jones would likely be interested in. The bed is almost an afterthought, an unexpectedly low-to-the-ground king with a dark comforter and white sheets. 

“Mulder?” she tries again, directing her sotto voce to the rumpled form under the duvet. 

He responds only with a grunt.

“Considering you couldn’t get through a five minute phone conversation this morning without being ill, I figured you could use some chicken soup. There’s also Gatorade.”

“Thank you.” His voice is scratchy, likely the product of stomach bile repeatedly coming up his esophagus since 4am. 

“Have you gone to a minute clinic to make sure it’s not something more serious?” she asks, sidestepping a pair of running shoes to perch tentatively at the foot of the bed. 

“I clean out my freezer once a year, Scully. If it was something other than that unidentified lemon chicken look-alike, I’d be surprised.” He pulls the covers away from his face, finally, and even in the dim daylight she can see he’s a bit green around the gills. She must pull a face because he jibes, “Come on, doc, is it that bad?”

“It’s food poisoning, Mulder,” she assures him, rearranging her expression and scooting closer up the bed. “Have you taken your temperature? At the rate you’re… expelling you risk serious dehydration, and compounded with a fever you could land yourself in the hospital for a few days.”

“And you’d finally be able to get some work done,” he teases. 

She chuckles, looks at her lap. She’s leaned on him a lot in Missy’s absence. She’d never quite realized how similar they were until there was only one of them in her life. Swept with a sudden burst of affection, she leans over and places the inside of her wrist to his forehead. 

“They teach a class on that in med school?” he asks, his breath warm on her forearm. 

“No,” she replies, her chest suddenly tight for reasons she can’t explain. Her hand moves practically of its own volition, turning to feel his temple, to feather softly through his hair. 

“Hey Scully, you come here often?” He’s just trying to spook her, she knows. But still, she pulls back and clears her throat.

“Do you? I’ve known you almost three years Mulder, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you use your bed.”

“I got a terrible warranty on my mattress, so I figure it’ll last longer if I sleep on the couch.”

She smiles, pats his arm, and stands. “Well I’d better be going. The bag’s on the kitchen table.” She tries to pull away but Mulder takes her hand and holds it tightly, the pad of his thumb pressing warmly into the center of her palm. 

“Thanks for stopping by, Scully.”

“Of course.” She doesn’t move. She wants to kiss him suddenly. “Mulder--”

He tugs on her hand and then suddenly turns in the bed to vomit in the wastebasket on the other side. She winces. The moment is gone.


End file.
